A Friend Wins the National Book Award, the Bittersweetness of being a semifinalist, Thanksgiving Poems and Holiday Decor Weirdness, Struggling with Author Photos

Buried Typewriter with fallen leaves is a whole November 2021 mood

Feeling a Little Better – Good News for a Friend and More

So, if you read last week’s blog post, you might have noticed I was a little down, as a result of what? Terrible, gloomy weather, shorter days, perimenopause, MS, a lot of rejections at once? Anyway, I’m feeling better this week, especially because…

A friend of mine, Jason Mott, won the National Book Award for fiction for his latest surreal Hell of a Book, which takes on author book tours, ghosts, racism and colorism, all with wit and grace. And I have an interview with him coming out soon with The Rumpus – watch this space!

He not only won the award, but wowed people with his acceptance speech. This article in the Guardian has a little quote from it. It could literally not have happened to a nicer person. I’ve been a big fan of his work since his very first poetry book! (He started out as a speculative poet! It gives hope to us all…) I hope you guys check out his book.

November sunset in Kirkland, Seattle in distance

The Bittersweetness of Semi-Finalists and Thanksgiving-themed poems

I has some good news of my own this week – a Pushcart nomination (which the journal hasn’t announced yet, so I’m waiting to announce it) and two of my  manuscripts were semifinalists in a good book contest.

One of the manuscripts is fairly new, so I was really excited – the other is four years old, and so the semifinalist status felt less like a success. Isn’t that interesting? The four-year old manuscript has been a runner-up for the Dorset Prize (so close, but so far) and a close finalist at a few of the bigger publishers, so it’s so hard to keep getting “finalist” and “semifinalist” but no one willing to actually publish the damn thing. On the other hand, being a semifinalist with a new manuscript feels better, because it’s a sign the manuscript’s not totally a messed-up failure, right? So the whole thing felt bittersweet. Isn’t being a writer weird? Or it could just be me.

Speaking of cheerful things, I wanted to post my Thanksgiving-themed apocalypse poem, “Calamity,” that I wrote in late 2019 and was published in April 2020 in Poetry Magazine. Frankly, I think it’s evidence I might be a witch. Or a prophet.

I always get a kick out of holiday decor, and even though it’s still a distinctly odd holiday season, I thought I’d cheer you up with some offbeat holiday decor scenes from around Woodinville:

Struggling with Author Photos

So, in trying to figure out things for my next book, Fireproof, with publisher Alternating Current, I am forced to confront something I haven’t had to think about for awhile – author photos. Many of my author photos taken by actual photographers are fairly old now, and it feels weird to put a picture out there that doesn’t really represent the present “you” – ie the pandemic version of me. Also, I might need to make the photo black and white – a first for me – because Alternating Current usually puts the author photo inside the book instead of the back cover. I’m also thinking about cover art. And honestly, I’m wrestling with my two other manuscripts – where to send them, how to revise them – while I wait for edits for Fireproof from Alternating Current’s editor. So I’m looking at using a pandemic-era photo taken by my husband for the author photo, no professional anything – I did my own hair and makeup (probably pretty obviously.) My weight and hair color fluctuated quite a bit during the last two years, which makes picking a photo even more difficult. Here are some of the finalists. Put your opinion in the comments. I considered paying someone to take a photo of me, again. I just don’t know yet.

PS if you are doing early holiday shopping, remember that people love poetry, and poets love poetry and books about PR!   And if you want a signed copy, you can get one from me!

November Gloom: Too Many Storms and Rejections

November Gloom: Too Many Storms and Rejections

I’m not going to lie: this has been a tough week. The weather has been a series of emergency alerts: wind storms that knock out power, rain that brings flooding and mudslides. Absolutely no outdoor time for me this week, even on my deck or to get mail. My computer (six months old, too expensive) is on the fritz and looks like it needs replacing already. I’m worried about my parents, aunts, uncles, in-laws, many of whom had health crises this week: falls, hospital trips, illnesses, house problems. The news isn’t so cheery these days either. Three snow leopards at a Nebraska zoo died of covid. Damn it covid, stay away from our snow leopards! A GOP school district in Kansas banned books by Margaret Atwood, Toni Morrison, James Baldwin, and Alice Walter, among others. Book burnings next? Yikes.

The time change, as predicted, has completely thrown off my sleep patterns, and I’m still fighting off a respiratory infection (non-covid) that has lasted three weeks now. I also received some really devastating rejections on my books this week. Some just feel more personal, more life-destroying, than others, right? Rejections that make you think: maybe I shouldn’t really be a writer. Maybe I should find something else and do that. I wish I had a publisher or a mentor who cared about me enough to advocate for me.

Going outside, pretty much my one area of consolation during the pandemic years, is cut off when there is driving wind and rain toppling power lines and trees and you’re running a fever anyway.

I’m still reading – in fact, I ordered some new books – poetry and some fiction on the theme “dark academia” – but not much writing and almost no submitting is happening.

Looking on Insta at friends who are healthy enough to travel and vacation in sunnier climes or visit family or go to conferences just makes me depressed, since as an immune-compromised person, I’m still not out of the covid woods and can’t even consider travel. Heck, I can’t even get over this regular run-of-the-mill sinus/bronchitis infection. My doctors can’t even say if I’m healthy enough to get a booster shot (too many of my special weird health problems interact with too many things to make any booster shot a clear win for me.)

I almost didn’t post this because I thought it would be too much of a downer. But hey, when you’re a chronically-ill, disabled person in a pandemic who is also experiencing a lot of “no” from her passion/vocation and there’s very little happy news – just grueling rounds of MRIs, blood work, doctor appointments, and even more of same- while separated from your family (going through their own stuff) and friends (also going through their own crises) then it’s just hard to rustle up a cheerful post in the darkest days of the darkest time of year. In case you ask, yes, I meditate, yes, I write down a gratitude list, yes, I’m taking vitamin D. Is this MS, SAD, perimenopause? Or “just” the length of the pandemic? I don’t know. But my reserves have been swallowed up.

Time Change, A Poem in Waterstone Review, Surviving November in the Second Year of the Plague

November Sunrise

Time Change and the Pacific Northwest

I am not a big fan of time changes. I wish it just stayed on Daylight Savings Time all year round, which gives Seattle more sunlight when we’re actually awake. We actually voted as a state to get rid of the time change, but turns out states don’t have that power.

This picture is not the sunrise this morning, but a few days ago, when it wasn’t quite so gray and gloomy. In fact, it occurs to me the poem I’m including in this post is very season-appropriate!

November isn’t the most picturesque time in the Pacific Northwest, but I did manage to get a few pictures this week that might fool you into thinking it is. Here’s Glenn and I at Chateau Ste Michelle, their harvest decor, and a rainbow on one of our stormy/sunny days this week, with our last blooming cosmos.

Sylvia with Water~Stone Review

A Poem in the new 2021 Water~Stone Review

So happy to get my contributor’s copy of Water~Stone Review’s annual print issue, which included my poem, “On the Autumn Equinox, 2019” but also poems by friends like Oliver de la Paz, January O’Neil, Todd Kaneko, and Alison Pelegrin.

The letter from the editor for this issue begins: “This issue is haunted.”

Here’s a sneak peek at my poem: (Click to enlarge)

From the Water~Stone Review

Surviving November in the Second Year of the Plague

There’s a spot on the grounds of the Columbia Winery near my house where I can reliably find Fairy Tale mushrooms (or Amanita muscaria) every year, but not until the flowers are nearly done and it’s started to feel like winter. It seems like a metaphor for the hidden beauties of this time of year; sometimes they take a little seeking out.

There was a meme going around on social media, something like, “This month I’m doing a challenge called November. It’s where I try to make it through every day of November.” That feels very true this year, in which we find ourselves confronting the end of the second year of the pandemic, getting booster shots, still unsure of whether it’s safe or not to…travel? see loved ones? have an indoor holiday dinner? It’s deflating to think that we are still dealing with the uncertainty and misery of the pandemic even after vaccines, plus now empty shelves at the stores (supply chain issues,) and a general feeling of malaise that’s hitting everyone from doctors (my brilliant hematology specialist of 18 years is going on “unlimited sabbatical” and my ER doctor friend from Alaska has moved to New Zealand) to mailpeople and retail workers. Don’t feel bad – this is hard. It is not your imagination. Do what it takes to survive this winter, and don’t feel like you have to be your usual ambitious, sparkling, driven self. I know I am casting around, looking for escape – should I move again? Get a job in a different city? Should I just decorate for the holidays way early, put on pajamas for the whole month and constantly stream Christmas specials?

“Adjusting expectations” seems like a continuous lesson of the pandemic. If you can’t get across country to see your family, well, you can still walk around a new neighborhood, try a new apple variety at your local farmer’s market, pick up a new book you might not usually read. If you miss shopping in stores in real life, there’s online shopping – there’s Facetime for talking to friends – and hey, it’s the perfect time to clean out your closet and send a box of clothes to charity or ThredUp. Yeah, these aren’t the options I was hoping to be facing at the end of this year, either. I sort of never want to hear the word “resilience” ever again. Anyway, if you are feeling down, or off, that’s okay. Rest up. Make whatever your favorite fall thing is – pumpkin pie, caramel apples, or just a grilled cheese sandwich or have a hot chocolate. Try to be kind to those around you – your family, friends, and people you interact with are likely also struggling. Don’t try to be cheerful when you’re not feeling it, don’t push yourself to fake anything right now. Read Yeats’s “Slouching Towards Bethlehem,” which feels timely always, but especially right now. Light a fire; hang some lights; burn a favorite candle. It’s Diwali, Southern Asia’s festival of lights, which celebrates the triumph of light over darkness and good over evil. I believe in that, in turning away from giving in to despair and trying to hope, to think of light in the darkest days.

Happy Halloween (and a Spooky Poem,) Living with MS and Selma Blair’s Documentary, and Turning Dark

Pumpkin Display at JB’s Pumpkin Patch

Happy Halloween!

Well, kids, the end of October is upon us, and so is Halloween, Samhain, the Day of the Dead – basically a time to recognize the beginnings of the darkest time of year, a time to take stock, to pay respects to ancestors and those we’ve lost. A good time for ghost stories and watching horror movies. A great time, also, to celebrate the harvest.
After a week of dark, cold, and “bomb cyclone” storms here in the Pacific Northwest, and me recovering from a (non-covid) nasty cold, we had a welcome sunny day today and went around to farmer’s markets in our neighborhood (apples, fennel, peppers, and squash are perfect right now) and even to a pumpkin patch. It was nice to walk around outside without getting soaking wet (we were not having drizzle, more like downpours all week) even if we had to put on a sweater AND a jacket.

Glenn and Jeannine with sun flare and harvest decor in Woodinville

I think fall food is my favorite, and it’s fun to have the colors and smells of the season in the house. To celebrate the harvest here at our house, we are making delicata squash risotto with fennel tonight, and plan to make some pumpkin goat cheese tamales tomorrow (it’s possible we bought too many pumpkins…) We’re also going to set up an outside bench with a table for candy (and rubber ducks for the allergic) for the kids – still outdoors, but hopefully safe for everyone involved. Pandemic Halloweens for two years in a row must be hard for children.

Below you can see me in cheetah ears and cat’s eye sunglasses in Kirkland, a spooky waning Harvest moon, and a Towhee dressed perfectly for Halloween in black and orange (with red eyessss…so spooky!)

Me in sunglasses, fall colors in my yard

Introducing Selma Blair and Talking About Living with MS

This week I watched the moving documentary, “Introducing Selma Blair,” on Discovery+.

Glenn and I with pumpkin display at JB’s pumpkin patch, in sunglasses

In case you’re wondering, one of the reasons so many pics feature me in sunglasses is because they help limit stressful brain stimulus. Yes, I walk with a cane, and sometimes, for distances, a wheelchair. I try to stay as active as possible, despite vertigo, some memory issues and foot drop.

Finally, a Spooky Poem, as Promised!

“The Year I Became a Witch,” in Gingerbread Lit

Glenn and I in the sun at a pumpkin patch

Turning Dark

Though all the pictures we took today were in the bright sunshine, the truth is our days of sunshine are going to be limited – especially after this month, especially after the time change, which robs us of desperately needed afternoon sunlight time.

I try to embrace the darkness rather than fight it; see it as an opportunity to change some habits, get to sleep earlier, rest more, take my vitamins, cultivate indoor activities and of course, as a writer, read and write more. For some delicious fall reading, I recommend two books I’m in the middle of: Louise Gluck’s perfectly seasonal and melancholy Winter Recipes from the Collective, which I think is her best book in years, and the art-world mystery which I picked up because it’s loosely based on Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca, Fake Like Me by Barbara Bourland. If you haven’t read Rebecca, definitely read that first. A very haunting classic.

What do you do to get through the dark times? (Yes, I realize we are literally going through a dark time because the economy, pandemic, etc. as well as literally getting into darker, colder months.) Do you have any tips for not totally ruining your internal clock with the time change? I am wishing you all kindness, health, and happiness as we turn towards a new season and the end of a difficult year.

A Blustery Week, Ferry Foibles, Visiting Friends and Family Over the Water

Glenn and I at Pumpkin Patch (McMurtrey’s Farm)

A Blustery Week

It’s been a blustery week – the Pacific Northwest hit with “bomb cyclone” weather patterns – right now, I’m typing as my power is flickering on and off. We tried to make the best of the brief mornings and afternoons of slightly better weather whenever we could.

Blustery weather cannot be a surprise to us in the Pacific Northwest – we often get a windstorm so fierce it blows down the leaves before they even get a chance to turn. The one good thing about cold wet weather is it keeps you inside, so you get more writing, editing, and submitting work done. I was, however, darting out whenever there was sun to plant bulbs, even visiting pumpkin farms and farmer’s stands during relatively calm warm intervals between rain, cold, and wind. The hummingbirds and woodpeckers are still as active as ever. We only got to see the fuzzy waning Harvest moon one night, as the others were too cloudy to see anything, but we can feel the time change coming, and the temperatures dropping, and the days getting shorter – yes, fall has definitely arrived. We are eating more than our share of the beautiful apples out here, as well – favorite varieties include Cosmic Crisp, Candytime, and Pazazz.

Glenn and I with little brother Mike and sister-in-law Loree at their back deck

Ferry Troubles and Visiting Friends and Family Over the Water

We did finally make it across the water for our visit to see friends and family, despite the ferry foibles (sickouts, vaccine protests, staffing problems, etc., cutting service down to one boat on all the usual ferry routes) it just took a little longer and felt a little more stressful.

It reminded me that living across the water, thought beautiful and more affordable, was so stressful for me because you are always at the mercy of the ferry (and sometimes bridge) schedules. Never could be sure you’d make a doctor’s appointment or a friend’s reading on time. You have to cultivate more Zen than I think I have in me to live out there permanently.

The trip, though hampered by the aforementioned foibles, was worth it! As with all great journeys, this one took some careful planning and plotting, but we had some grand adventures, too.

Kelli and I in the gazebo overlooking the Puget Sound

First, we got a chance to visit with my poet friends (and Two Sylvias Press editors) Kelli Russell Agodon and Annette Spaulding-Convy, who came and met me at the ferry arrival area. We shared carrot apple ginger cupcakes in a gazebo overlooking the water and got caught up on writing news in the brisk outdoors. I also picked up a pack of the Two Sylvias Poet Tarot set. It was great seeing friends IN PERSON again. I forgot how great it is socializing in real life, especially with other writers!

Then we traveled on to see my little brother Mike and sister-in-law Loree at the new house they’re renting on the Hood Canal, stopping along the way at a local park to unpack a thermos of hot cider and snap a pic – only to see a sea lion fighting with seagulls right behind us. We had a good visit, sat out on their beautiful deck overlooking the Hood Canal, had a little dinner, then made the long trek back to Woodinville. Once again, great to see actual family in human form, instead of just over the phone or over a screen.

During our trek, we did see at least one heron, about ten otters, seals and sea lions, and lots of other things we don’t get as much of a chance to see in Woodinville, and mercifully, it was a little chilly out, but didn’t rain on us the whole trip! Some more pics from the trip, including the park where we saw the sea lion/seagull fight. I think if I lived where my brother does, I’d try to get out and paint that view of the water every day. It was so tranquil, except for the otters occasionally scurrying by. I was entranced by the cloud formations on the water. Anyway, a wonderful chance to see friends and family we haven’t gotten to see often enough over the past two years.

Me at Chateau Ste Michelle’s gates

Last Few Pictures of October in Seattle

So, before I go, a few more pictures of October around our neighborhood: wineries with fall decor, fairy tale mushrooms, and even more pumpkins. Those beautiful poisonous mushrooms were on the grounds of Columbia Winery, believe it or not. You never know when magical things will pop up around here. Fall can be a beautiful time here in the Northwest, if you know where to look (and don’t let the weather daunt you too much!)